


All that Glitters

by Whumpadoodle



Category: Hardy Boys - Franklin W. Dixon
Genre: Captive, Captured, Gen, Kidnapped, Whump, injured, manhandled, shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29792649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whumpadoodle/pseuds/Whumpadoodle
Summary: Frank kept a close eye on his brother, even as they were both bound tightly at the wrists and shoved forward into the backseat of a waiting car. Joe’s face was pale and drawn, his breathing ragged. All the trouble they had gotten into as teenagers years ago didn't even begin to compare to the mess they were in now.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

Frank motioned to his brother, and they both crept forward, hugging the alley wall. If the information they had been given was correct, the exchange would happen any minute, just beyond where the alley spilled into a backstreet. Joe had his phone out, camera-mode ready to capture the proof they needed to be taken seriously. 

The dim street light flickering a hundred yards away provided just enough illumination for Frank to make out a car in the predawn fog. He tapped Joe on the shoulder, and the younger Hardy brother snapped a picture of the license plate. The door opened, and Joe held the phone poised to photograph the emerging occupant. 

“You fellas lost?”

Frank’s heart jumped into his throat my as he spun around, car forgotten. Joe turned as well, lowering the camera. The two men standing behind them were massive, dressed head to toe in black, and wearing grim expressions. Instinctively, Frank stepped in front of Joe. 

“We’re good,” Frank said. “Just taking a shortcut.”

“Wrong place, wrong time,” the second man growled. “We’re gonna need that phone.”

Frank swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat, and spread his hands out. “Sorry to disappoint. I left my phone at home.”

“ _His_ phone.”

“Joe, run.” The order was terse and did not invite argument. Frank didn’t wait to hear his brother’s footsteps. He squared his shoulders, then charged, channeling every ounce of high school football he still had. Head down, he barreled into the first man, knocking him backward. 

The victory was fleeting. With a grunt, the man casually backhanded Frank, sending him sprawling across the alley floor. Stars danced around his head as he struggled back to his feet. 

A deafening boom exploded in the narrow alley, echoing off the walls. It was instantly followed by a cry of agony and the sound of a body hitting the ground. Terror ripped through Frank as he whirled around, one thought screaming in his mind: _Joe!_

His brother had made it maybe ten yards out of the alley before the bullet caught up with him. Forgetting the danger they were in, Frank sprinted towards him, skidding to a stop on his knees by Joe’s side. 

“Joe! Joe, come on, talk to me!”

Before he got a response, Frank felt a heavy hand clamp onto his shoulder, yanking him away from his brother. He struggled, but it was no use against the vise-like grip. He was dragged backwards, towards the same car that had driven up just minutes earlier. Frantically, Frank craned his head for a glimpse of his brother, some assurance that Joe was still alive. 

The second man crouched beside his brother now, rummaging through his pockets and patting him down. He swore angrily, gripping Joe by his shirt front and hauling him to his feet. Blood spread from the bullethole in his left shoulder. Not as bad as it could be, but if he didn’t get medical attention soon...Frank didn’t want to think about it. 

“There’s no phone!”

More swearing. “He must have gotten rid of it. Just look around, it’s gotta be here somewhere.”

Frank kept a close eye on his brother, even as they were both bound tightly at the wrists and shoved forward into the backseat of a waiting car. Joe’s face was pale and drawn, his breathing ragged. All the trouble they had gotten into as teenagers years ago didn't even begin to compare to the mess they were in now.

“Who else knows you’re here?”

Frank didn’t hear the question. He was too focused on Joe and the blood dripping from his shoulder. The butt of the pistol smashing into his jaw brought his attention quickly back to his captors and the repeated question.

“No one,” Frank said bitterly. They had been too clever, and it was going to cost them this time.

The car pulled up in front of an abandoned warehouse, which would have looked sinister enough without the broken windows and flickering street lights. Frank and Joe were dragged from the car and into the building. The two goons who had grabbed them pulled them to a stop before an elegantly dressed man, perhaps in his sixties. The tuxedo he wore cost more than Frank could make in a year, and the cane he held sported a gold handle.

The brothers were pushed to their knees, sending up little puffs of dust when they landed. Frank glared up at their captors, anger radiating off of him like heat. Joe’s head hung down, chin on his chest, sweat beading on his forehead.


	2. Chapter 2

The man stared down at them impassively, taking a long look at Joe before meeting Frank’s eyes. “Your brother doesn’t look too good,” he commented mildly.

“Leave him alone,” Frank snarled.

“My dear boy, I think it’s a little late for that, don’t you?” He tapped a carefully manicured finger on the golden handle of his cane. “You were warned. You can’t deny that.”

“You won’t get away with this!” The cliché burst from Frank’s mouth before he could stop it.

Their captor only laughed, a soft, sinister chuckle. “You think not? Well, then. Let’s see how much you actually know, and then we’ll see how true that might be.” His eyes flicked from brother to brother, then rested on Joe, who was now swaying dangerously. “We’ll start with that one.”

“NO!” Frank exploded, lurching to his feet. Instantly, searing pain cracked across his skull, and he tumbled to the ground, head spinning. The cane was not only capped with gold, it must have been weighted with lead. When the room slowed to a stop, Frank looked up to see the man crouching next to him.

“I like your spirit, boy.” He reached out a hand and gripped Frank’s collar as he stood, dragging him up. “I’ll tell you what: I’ll give you a choice. I can hurt your brother right here. You’ll have every opportunity to make it stop by telling me what I want to know. Or, I take him to another room and find out what I want there, from him. You won’t have to see a thing.”

The bottom dropped out of Frank’s stomach. It was an impossible choice, with no correct answer. No matter what he said, Joe would suffer. 

A malicious grin curled at the corners of their captor’s mouth. “What’ll it be, boy? Time’s a-wastin.”

Frank swallowed hard, then swallowed again. He looked over at his brother, who was only upright still because of the guard’s hands gripping his arms. His face was pale, and blood continued to soak his shirt.

“I forgot to mention the third option. I could have my men kill Joe right now, then drag all the answers I need from _your_ screaming mouth.” 

The words, spoken quietly, viciously, hit Frank like a gut punch. The force of them dislodged the words that were stuck in his throat. “Don’t take him away,” Frank said hoarsely. “Don’t take him.” 

“Oh, no, my boy.” That was whispered, even as he released his grip on Frank’s collar and patted him gently on the cheek. “You don’t get to choose by rejecting one of the options. Say it. Say exactly what you want me to do, or I swear to you—your brother will die.”

Frank glared at his captor, holding onto defiance as long as he dared. Then he looked away, unable to bear having his brother in his field of vision as he answered, each word like a shard of glass, slicing their way out. “Do it here. Ask your questions here.”

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Frank flinched away as their captor patted his cheek again in a fatherly manner.

He snapped his fingers, and two guards Frank hadn’t noticed grabbed him, driving him to his knees again. One yanked Frank’s arms up and back, the other pulled a handful of hair, exposing his throat for the blade that snaked up and kissed his carotid artery. He couldn’t move, couldn’t look away.

The man with the gold cane walked over to Joe and caught his jaw, forcing him to look up. With effort, Joe focused his gaze and whispered something Frank couldn’t hear. It drew a reaction from their captor, however. His expression turned to flint as he swung his cane, catching Joe on the side of the head and sending him tumbling to the ground. A five hundred dollar shoe rested on his wounded shoulder, slowly applying pressure as Joe turned white and screamed.

The man glanced over at Frank, a cruel glint in his eye. “Now, then. Let’s get started.”


	3. Chapter 3

The knife retreated from his throat, and Frank trembled with rage and horror as their captor snapped his fingers carelessly, then turned his back. The two guards that flanked Joe grabbed him under the arms and dragged him upright. Swiftly, they untied his wrists, only to bind them again immediately, this time in front. Then they wrenched his arms up over his head, heedless of the still bleeding wound and the cry of pain, while a fifth guard wheeled a large hydraulic crane towards them. 

The man in the tux turned back around, the gold-tipped cane lay discarded next to a cabinet, and all the pieces clicked into place. Frank willed himself not to vomit as he realized what they planned to do to Joe. The boss ran a thick black leather cord through his fingers, admiring the wicked-looking tip, as Joe’s wrists were anchored to the hook at the end of the crane. The hook inched higher and higher, until Joe’s boots barely scraped the floor, his face white with suppressed agony. 

CRACK!

The sharp noise echoed through the warehouse and startled Frank, and he yanked against the guards’ grip on his arms. He caught them unawares and slipped free for one exhilarating moment, then a boot planted itself against his lower back and _shoved_. Unable to break his fall, Frank hit the cement hard, busting his lower lip and opening a cut above his eye. Blood dribbled into his eyebrow and spilled onto his eyelashes, clouding his vision. He shook his head, spattering red droplets around him and triggering another wave of nausea. He blinked, and found himself upright again, staring into the cold face of the boss. 

“Try that again,” the man hissed viciously, brandishing the whip, “and I will kill your brother. Slowly. Painfully. Until you _beg_ for his death. Do I make myself clear?”

Frank had no choice but to believe him. He gave a tight nod. 

The boss reached out and grabbed his face, fingernails digging into Frank’s skin. “I said, do I make myself clear?”

Willing moisture into his mouth, Frank swallowed and rasped, “Yes.”

The backhanded slap caught the right side of his face, splitting his upper lip. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. 

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes,” Frank repeated. He hesitated a moment, then, without even bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice, added a grudging “Sir.”

“There.” With a warm smile, the boss ruffled Frank’s hair, letting the braided end of the whip brush against his cheek. “That’s more like it.” He snapped his fingers. Frank was hauled back up, and the knife found its way to his throat again. 

Frank stole a glance at Joe’s face, hoping that he had bought him enough time to catch his breath. That was all he could do. Now he was powerless to interfere. He could only watch as his brother’s shirt was torn away, leaving his back bare and unprotected. Joe shivered as the cool air moved against his skin.

“You don’t have to do this,” Frank pleaded, ignoring the sting of the blade at his throat. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. You don’t have to hurt him!”

As if he had not spoken, the man raised the whip. 

_CRACK!_

Joe’s entire body spasmed, his feet losing all purchase and scrambling to regain it. Sweat mingled with tears, but he did not utter a sound. 

_CRACK!_

_CRACK!_

Angry red lines marked each kiss of the braided lash, with crimson dots welling up and thinning into narrow streams. 

_CRACK!_

The first sound that escaped Joe’s determined lips was a strained whimper. Then the dam broke, and all the pain and agony rushed out, echoing off the walls in a deafening cacophony and searing into Frank’s heart. 

“ASK A QUESTION!” Frank cried out desperately over his brother’s screams. “You said you would ask questions!”

_CRACK!_


End file.
